


Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore

by aurembiaux



Series: Come to the Dark Side, we have fanfics. [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben and Rey are Poe's siblings, D/s roleplay undertones, Darkside AU, Leia is his mother, M/M, Open Relationships, Sexual Roleplay, Stormpilot, Stormtrooper gossips, Virgin Finn (Star Wars), alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21926044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurembiaux/pseuds/aurembiaux
Summary: "Poe is fond of reminding Finn that when they met the younger man was already in his knees, suggesting this position had given him ideas. Finn rather doubts this is true, though. When they had met, he had also been wearing his armor, cursing under his breath at an electric panel, and sweating profusely. All in all, not a terribly erotic image."Part of my Come to the Dark Side, we have fanfics series. It is not necessary to read the previous parts, but it may be advisable  to read at least the first in order to understand the context.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: Come to the Dark Side, we have fanfics. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/990987
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Giinny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giinny/gifts), [Batpyrope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batpyrope/gifts), [CissyM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CissyM/gifts).



Poe is fond of reminding Finn that when they met the younger man was already in his knees, suggesting this position had given him ideas. Finn rather doubts this is true, though. When they had met, he had also been wearing his armor, cursing under his breath at an electric panel, and sweating profusely. All in all, not a terribly erotic image.

“Everything alright there, buddy?”

FN-2187 stops cursing and looks up, panicked, to find the owner of the room whose electricity he’s been sent to fix. Fuck. Interacting with the officers is always tricky, even with one who’s said to be so nice as Commander Dameron, but the guy caught him without his helmet, and that’s against the regulations.

Dameron’s room isn’t exactly kept according to the regulations, certainly, but everybody knows that officers can get away with that kind of things.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he says, reaching for the helmet, but the Commander just waves his hand.

“Keep it off. I don’t know how you are supposed to fix the electric panel with that in your head; I wouldn’t even be able to think.”

Well, that’s a relief. The short circuit has affected the air conditioner, which means it’s fucking hell in that room. For the first time FN-2187 is grateful for all those training marches trough the dessert, because without them he is pretty sure he would have passed out at this point. His armor isn’t doing him any favors.

Commander Dameron seems to be thinking the same thing. “You know what, take off that armor if you need to. I won’t tell, and if Captain Phasma walks in I’ll tell her it was my idea, I promise.”

FN-2187 is stunned. Stars. They weren’t just rumors, he really _is_ nice.

“Thank you so much, sir,” he says, starting to remove the damned armor.

The Commander chuckles.

“Don’t think about it. And just tell me if you need a hand; the sooner that air conditioner starts working, the better.”

“Yes, sir,” FN-2187 dutifully agrees, and once he is free of his armor (which, to be honest, feels like been reborn), he gets back to work.

For a while he just works in the wires, stealing a glance from time to time to the Commander, who seems to be working in some strategies, if the systems’ holos he looks at are a clue. Finally, he seems satisfied and goes to what FN-2187 assumes must be the bathroom. The running water confirms that theory.

Later he’ll get jokes from Poe, who seems fixed in stablishing that Finn’s interest started there, fantasizing with him naked in his shower. But truth be told, if FN-2187 fantasizes about someone in that shower is with himself; the sound of the running water makes him positively jealous. Damned dessert planet, and twice damned traitor electricity.

When the Commander gets out of the bathroom, however, he does start fantasizing. Still, he can’t truly be blamed for that. It’s Dameron who walks into the bedroom with just a towel around his hips, after all. He has raised his head automatically, but now he can’t just look away.

Fortunately, the Commander seems oblivious, and FN-2187 comes back to life in time to pretend he wasn’t really staring.

“So, how’s it going?,” asks the Commander, leaning against the wall, and FN-2187 has to remind himself how interesting the wires are. Much more interesting than the Commander’s abs, of course.

Yeah, that was a nice try.

“I think I can finish soon enough, sir,” he says, risking to looking up at him. That proves to be a mistake when the Commander runs a hand through his hair and smiles down at him. FN-2187 breath catches at his throat.

“Oh, sorry,” says the Commander, and for a horrible second FN-2187 thinks that he is going to apologize for turning him on or something of the sort. But Dameron just opens a furniture and asks, “Do you want some water?”

Since his brain is as short circuited as the panel he is working on, FN-2187 is about to say that licking the water drops that still run down through Dameron’s skin will be enough, thank you, but he regains his wits in time and smiles up at the Commander.

“I would be grateful,” he says. Dameron handles him a bottle of water and FN-2187 starts thanking him, but he cuts him off.

“It’s nothing, really,” he says. Then he goes and winks at him and fuck, all of sudden FN-2187 has problems handling a simple action like drinking. He coughs a little, nearly spitting the water he has in his mouth, which would make a hell of a good impression, no doubt. “We gotta take care of you guys. The Empire is nothing without his ‘troopers.”

He sounds like he believes it. Maybe he doesn’t socialize often with the other officers.

Dameron turns around and disappears from FN-2187’s sight, which really improves his concentration; then he can hear him sitting in the bed, which has the opposite effect. With a sigh, FN-2187 leans forward and forces himself to forget about anything else, and manages to work for a while, until fully repairing the electric panel.

“Done!” he proclaims, joyous, while checking that everything works correctly. The conditioned air comes back to life, and both he and the commander groan in relief.

“Well done,” says Dameron warmly. FN-2187 turns toward him, smiling, although he has a feeling that his smile becomes a truly unbecoming open-mouthed gasp when he sees Dameron. He had though the officer would be dressed by now. Instead of that, he is utterly bare, sitting in the bed with his back against the headboard and a datapad in his knee like that’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I… thanks,” he manages to say.

Dameron’s kind smile doesn’t disappear, but it changes.

“Listen…” he says, leaning forward and biting his lower lip. FN-2187 swallows. “No pressure here, buddy, not at all, but… would you like to come to bed with me, now that you are done? Because, man, you are really hot.” His smile changes again, widens. “Climate notwithstanding.”

FN-2187 blinks, taken aback by the proposal; a bubbling heat in his guts yells at him to accept immediately. Instead of that, he clears his throat.

“Come to bed,” he says, carefully. He likes his officer’s orders clear and explicit, if he can choose, and kind or not, a Commander isn’t someone you want to misunderstand. “To… hum…”

“To have sex, if you want to,” Dameron completes easily. He holds his hands up. “As said, no pressure. I know some officers order stormtroopers to their beds, but I’ve always liked my companions willing.”

“I am willing,” FN-2187 hears himself saying, and he blushes furiously. What the hell has he gotten himself into? Willing he is, certainly, but also completely inexperienced in this area. And the stories he has heard about Dameron imply that, while he doesn’t push his partners, he does enjoy a variety of things. FN-2187 doubts he can offer him anything of interest.

It is difficult to resist the Commander’s smile, though, even if he wanted to.

“Great!” he says, like there’s nothing he would rather do right now. He looks at FN-2187 and seems to sober a little. “Maybe you would like to take a shower first,” he suggests delicately. FN-2187 blushes again.

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” he mutters, heading towards the bathroom

He allows himself a brief moment of panic behind the bathroom’s closed door, but the stormtroopers’ training is truly helpful when it comes to controlling that kind of emotions. FN-2187 disrobes, gets in the shower, and tries to ignore the way his dick is filling in order to think. This situation could become terrible awkward, certainly, but he doubts it will turn dangerous. Even if FN-2187 disappoints him, he doesn’t think the Commander would punish him in any way. Maybe he’ll lose interest in him when he finds out how inexperienced he is and send him to his barrack; maybe FN-2187 will be sore afterwards, like he has heard some are after this kind of encounters. On the other hand, he could also have an amazing experience, enjoying the attention of what some say are the most sexually skilled hands of the Empire. He won’t know if he doesn’t try, and FN-2187 has never lacked courage.

Besides, his cock is very on board with the idea and may not forgive him if he chickens out. Like, ever.

He has never seen the shower like anything else than a short, functional mater, although he wouldn’t mind spending more time in this bathroom and enjoy a very treasured feeling of solitude. The Commander awaits at the other side of the door, however, so he quickly dries himself and opens the door.

FN-2187 might be a brave man, but his first instinct is retreat when he sees Dameron, though. Not that it’s a menacing sight, per se, but –

The Commander has shifted his hips forward and has a hand wrapped around his dick, the member glistening with lube and precome. The other hand disappears between his asscheecks, but considering he is shamelessly sprawled right in front of FN-2187, the stormtrooper still has a pretty good look.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Dameron greets him, biting his lower lip again. “Come here, come on,” he says, moving his hands so he can open his arms for FN-2187, who takes the hint and goes towards him, awkwardly kneeling by his side. The Commander wipes his hands in the blankets. “Sorry, I’m a mess,” he says, laughing.

FN-2187 looks at his mouth and licks his lips, mouth suddenly dry. The Commander seems to follow the same path of though, because he takes him by the neck. FN-2187 lets him guide him toward his mouth, and –oh. Kisses, he has had, and he is ready to swear none of them can compare with this. He is panting when they part, wide-eyed and terribly hard. The Commander smiles at him, lazy and satisfied, like a great, playful cat.

“What’s your name?” he asks, tracing with a thumb FN-2187 lower lip. The stormtrooper shivers.

“FN-2187.”

“Mmm.” Dameron frowns for a moment in concentration, and then smiles again. “Would you mind if I called you Finn? And you can call me Poe, while we are in this room.”

“I… really, sir?” he says, taken aback.

“Just for this while,” the Commander –Poe- tells him. “So, what do you think about Finn?”

Shocked by the permission to use the Commander’s first name, he has barely paid any attention to what is to be his first real name, not a numeric nomination. He tries it in his mind and finds that it fits, that he actually wants to be addressed like that for this. Like… like a person.

“I like it,” he says shyly, which makes Dameron smile.

“Great,” he says. “It will be much easier to scream when you fuck me, you see,” he adds with a wink.

Ah. Right. The fucking. FN-2187 –Finn- carefully tiptoes around the revolutionary notion that Dameron is suggesting that the wants the ‘trooper to fuck him, not the other way around, and tries to focus on the real biggest problem.

“I… uhm… I would really love to, but I… see, I haven’t…”

Dameron looks at him for a moment, seemingly lost, but then he blinks and smiles

. “My, my,” he says, caressing Finn’s face. “Are you saying you have never done this? A handsome boy like you?”

The Stormtrooper clears his throat, embarrassed at the compliment.

“Yes, that’s… I haven’t. Sorry,” he says lamely, downing his eyes. Well, he has said it. Now it’s up to Dameron to decide if he still wants him or not.

“Well, don’t say it like it’s something to be ashamed of,” replies the Commander. He takes FN-2187 by the shoulders and pushes him down until he is lying on his back. Dameron rolls and gets propped in an elbow, so close that Finn can feel his breath ghosting over his mouth, his hard dick pressing against his hip. Finn licks his lips and notices the way Poe’s eyes follow the movement, how his tongue mirrors it. Poe looks up again, until he meets Finn eyes, and winks. “Ok, then. Tell me what have you done, and what have you thought of doing. We can work from there.”


	2. Chapter 2

Generally, Poe tries not to sleep with the same stormtrooper twice. Some of them have been special over the years, of course –charming, or greatly passionate, some of them fun, although that really is a scarce quality among their ranks. As a matter of principle, though, he tries to keep his sexual encounters with them casual and isolated. Confraternizating with fellow officers is one thing, but getting attached to stormtroopers can be problematic.

Poe does tend to get attached to people, after all.

What he doesn’t remember is ever being obsessed with one of the ‘troopers. Now… well, maybe obsessed is taking it too far. But he keeps thinking again and again in Finn’s bright eyes, his shy smile, in how responsive he had been. He finds himself walking through the ship, surrounded by white armors, and he can’t help but look at them, all of them, and wonder if Finn is there, looking at him too.

It’s a problem, really. There are lots of ‘troopers in this ship.

*

“Commander Dameron,” says FN-2187, saluting, walking into the other man’s quarters.

The officer is bent over a table, and he seems to be fixing something in a turned off astromech. He turns his head towards the Stormtrooper and smiles at him.

“Finn,” he says, and then he adds, “FN-2187. Please, come closer. I need your help to fix this astromech.”

“Yes, sir,” answers FN-2187, trying his best to act normally while he goes to the table. Under the armor he can feel how he is starting to sweat, nearly intoxicated by the other man’s presence. Fortunately, it takes a lot of practice to read a stormtroopers’ emotions through his calm, durasteel exterior.

“What I need is quite simple. I don’t think you’ll need your tools,” explains Dameron. “You might need to take your gloves off, though.”

Mmm. Well, at least his hands aren’t given to shaking or anything of the sort. FN-2187 obeys promptly and puts his hands where the Commander tells him, so he can apply pressure on the right mechanism and wires. He has done this before; they’ve got machines for this sort of reparations, but they give problems sometimes. He has heard that the Commander is very fond of his astromech, though –presumably the one who lies in the table. Maybe he doesn’t want to risk hurting it.

He loses his train of thought –nearly all of his trains of thought, to be honest- when the Commander starts working, his hands brushing FN-2187’s. The stormtrooper swallows and tries to keep his eyes in the astromech, but that means seeing Poe’s skillful hands working, every little turn, shove and delicate movement reminding him of the way they touched him weeks ago. Damn, this is embarrassing, but his dick is starting to fill just because of that little brush and the memories it elicits, which is, by the way, not exactly comfortable when wearing armor. Resigned, he allows his gaze to follow the line of the other man’s arm, the shoulder, the neck, until it lands in that terribly handsome face. Dameron catches him staring and FN-2187 blushes, but the officer merely smiles at him.

“We are nearly done,” he promises, which threatens to make Finn cry. He wants to simultaneously run away and keep touching the pilot’s hands for as long as possible. Fuck, if this is all they are going to do, maybe he should have taken off his helmet. Yes, his every emotion would have been readable in his face, but at least he could have smelt Poe, could have felt his breath, could have brushed against his body. And, well… maybe, if he had seen his face, the Commander would have wanted to have a second go.

“And done,” says the older man, carefully taking his hands away. Finn does the same, terribly disappointed, and watches as Dameron turns the astromech on. It soon starts to beep merrily, and Dameron laughs, patting its head. Finn heart squeezes. Damn, he wants to be the one who makes him laugh, the one who makes him moan, the one who makes him scream. He wants to touch him so badly his skin nearly hurts.

“Yeah, buddy, you are back in one piece,” tells Dameron to the astromech, affection clear in his voice. He then pats it again and says, “now, why don’t you roll away for a while? Surely you want to catch up with other droids.”

The astromech doesn’t obey immediately, which surprises FN-2187. Instead, it seems to look up and down to the stormprooper, its gaze going back to its owner afterwards. A series of beeps come out of it then, in a tone that can be described only as… teasing. FN-2187 blinks when the Commander blushes.

“Well, maybe,” he says, looking sideways at the soldier. “Now get out, come on. I’ll look for you later.”

There is going to be something more, then. Unless Poe dismisses him, of course –but he’ll keep faith for as long as it’s possible.

“FN-2187”, the Commander finally says, once the astromech has rolled out of the room. “Finn. Can I call you Finn?”

“Yes, of course,” answers the younger man eagerly. Finn is good. Finn is good news, or at least, conductive to good news.

“Good.” Poe smiles at him, somehow… nervously. “And… would you mind taking off your helmet?”

He does, of course.

“Nice. Great. Yes, great,” says Poe. Weirdly enough, now that he can see his face, the Commander seems fixed in looking everywhere else: the table, the wall, the floor. Finally, though, he looks back at Finn, a hand scratching the back of his neck and his lower lip trapped between his teeth. Finn is jealous of his teeth. “I… I wanted to ask you if you ever think about our last encounter.”

Now that sounds promising.

“Yes, I do. Quite often,” Finn says, his heartbeat increasing. His first thought is that he should have added a “sir” or something of the sort at the end –it’s a reflex by now. His second thought is that “often” is an understatement: he thinks about Poe and what they did together while training, while eating, in the shower, every time he gets on his knees to repair an electric panel, nearly every night, biting off his pillow so no one will hear him moan as he touches himself. He thinks about it all the time, to be honest.

“Yeah?” mutters Poe, standing closer. “I think about it a lot, too.”

Now it’s Finn’s turn to bite his lower lip, and Poe’s eyes seem to get darker, hungrier, while he gets a little closer again.

“Would you like to do it again?” he asks, his voice slightly hoarse, and a shiver goes down Finn’s spine.

“Please,” he asks, but before the other man has had the time to kiss him, he is the one who’s pressing his lips against Poe’s.

*

Poe had hoped that sleeping regularly with Finn would ease his obsession with him. It has helped, in some ways. In other ways, though, it has only gotten worse. Finn pops into his mind in the most unexpected moments. He is not particularly worried about it, generally –until it happens in a really bad setting.

He has taken some days off to visit his family, and he is doing fine. Distracted by his siblings and his mother’s news, he’s barely had time to think about Finn at all, and there is nothing that has reminded of him so far. The strawberries put an end to that.

Now, see, had they been served with sugar or milk, he wouldn’t have had any problem. It’s the whipped cream that makes his mind jump to Finn, to Finn’s skin more concretely, and how lovely it would look covered with whipped cream stripes, so beautiful against him, so ready to be licked by his tongue and then passed to Finn’s wonderful mouth in a passionate kiss…

To his left, Ben makes a choked sound.

“Poe, please keep the holoporn images to the minimum, will you?” he says, his tone disgusted.

“It wasn’t a holoporn,” Poe protests weakly. Fuck. He had forgotten how his siblings got when they caught him thinking anything of the sort, and how potently he broadcast this kinds of thoughts. Or so they always accuse him of.

“Wish it were. This had _feelings_ ,” grumbles Rey, who sounds even more disgusted that Ben. “An awful lot of them.”

Poe wishes Han was there. As the only other non-sensitive of the family (not to mention a man prone to sexual thoughts) he would have provided some backing to his stepson. In his absence, Poe sighs and looks up to meet his mother’s steady gaze. If his siblings have seen his thoughts, she most likely has too, unless she was shielding her mind. The way her lips curl upwards tell him he is not so lucky.

“Who is he, them?” asks his mother, her tone calm. They have known some of his couples, after all –for all he is given to promiscuity, he is also rather fond of forming stable bonds. This particular relationship, though, is quite undefined, at least for now, and he doesn’t feel ready to give them a good explanation.

His mother is expecting some kind of answer, though.

“He is a stormtrooper,” Poe murmurs, and as he had expected, his mother’s eyebrows arch at that.

“Be careful with that kind of relationship,” she advises, and Poe is grateful that nothing else is said on the matter.

Yeah. Yeah, he needs to be careful about this. The problem is that he can’t bring himself to care for nearly anything as much as he cares for Finn.

*

Finn hadn’t seen it coming, but he should have. Gossip is a primary source of entertainment among people who lives in close quarters, and it would be difficult to live in closer quarters than stormtroopers do.

Some of them are nice about it, teasing him gently about how Commander Dameron’s rooms seem to be needing more and more electric repairs these days. Some are just curious. Others are downright mean, like the ones who comment mockingly how he will now be easily promoted, what with the hard work he is doing in the _bedfield_ , or the ones who promptly inform him when the Commander requests some other stormtrooper’s presence or is seen leaving some officer’s quarter’s in the night.

Finn doesn’t mind if the Commander, if Poe, sleeps with other people, but he does mind that the others try to get under his skin using it. It’s annoying and, to be honest, a little bit upsetting.

As for the comments about his promotion, he thinks they don’t affect him, but it turns out they do.

*

“Promoted?” asks FN-2187, bewildered. It was the last thing he expected. He was the best of his group, for sure, but… Phasma had always been so critical with him that the soldier didn’t really think he deserved anything like that.

“Promoted to the rank of sergeant,” confirms Phasma.

The comments of his comrades begin to infiltrate his thoughts then. Would Poe intervene to give him a promotion? He didn’t think he would, but… maybe… He wasn’t exactly friends with General Hux, but they were close enough. Or… maybe hadn’t actively searched to promote him, but if Phasma had wanted to gain his favor, she might have thought of this option. To be honest, FN-2187 doesn’t think Phasma is inclined towards that kind of corruption, but…

She is looking at him behind her helmet, most likely frowning. FN-2187 quickly reacts and salutes her, trying to look enthusiastic.

“I am deeply honored to be warranted this opportunity to better serve the Empire, Captain,” he proclaims.

“As you should be,” answers Phasma. She looks at him for a moment, silent, and then she adds: “I wanted you to know this decision was made some time ago.”

“Some time ago, Madam?”

“Yes. About three months. This kind of bureaucratic processes take their time, as you soon will learn while dealing with the paperwork of you new position.”

Three months. Before he met Poe, then. The Captain is trying to tell him that he hasn’t been promoted because of the other man’s influence, but because his own merits. He is rather grateful for it, to be honest.

“Thank you for letting me know, Madam,” he says softly.

Phasma nods and makes a dismissive gesture.

“Prove us we were not mistaken to promote you, sergeant.”

*

Poe doesn’t always eat in the mess hall, and when he does, he isn’t necessarily there in the hour Finn is scheduled to eat. When they are both there, though, Poe looks for him with his eyes –which is easy enough, as each stormtrooper always sits in the same place for their meals. That allows him the briefest of looks –he doesn’t want to be too obvious, after all- but he can’t help himself. He doesn’t have that many chances to see the other man’s face.

Today, though, Finn isn’t in his usual place, and this _is_ his squadron; he has gotten used to see them there. Poe heart jumps worriedly. Is he hurt? Sick, maybe? He checks his file regularly when he hasn’t seen him in a while, but the last time he had a look at it was five days ago. Has something gone wrong?

In his hasty search above white clad bodies, he nearly misses him in his grey uniform, although he is actually sitting at the edge of the table, the place reserved for officers. When he realizes that the sergeant is Finn, his Finn, he is already by his side.

Like the idiot he is, Poe has not only openly stared at him, but stopped in his tracks, as well, which obviously forces Finn to stand up and salute him, followed by his whole table. Great. Really discreet. Poe eyes quickly the uniform and tries to make this situation look as normal as possible.

“Congratulations on your promotion, sergeant,” he says formally. There, that sounded natural. He is always nice with those under his command; congratulating a newly promoted officer won’t seem too weird.

“Thank you, Commander,” answers Finn, his tone and posture even more formal. Poe refrains from smiling, nods at him and keeps walking. At his back, he can hear the stormtroopers sitting again.

This is good news, he decides while grabbing a tray and standing in line for his meal. Firstly and most importantly, it means that Finn will be slightly safer in battle; as a son, nephew and brother of warriors, not to mention a soldier himself, Poe is quite used to the idea of losing in battle someone dear to him. Still, the higher you get, the lesser the chances of losing your life in an unimportant mission, that is obvious.

The second reason is that seeing him often will now be not only easier -Poe’s excuses about electrical problems were becoming increasingly lame-, but also less frowned upon. Nobody is going to bat an eyelash if an officer takes a stormtrooper to his bed, but a lasting interest is something different. Many see it as weakness, even, to care so much for someone of such a low rank. Being a sergeant is only an step forward, certainly, but that promotion means FN-2187 is not a common stormtrooper, but someone worthy of some attention.

Damn, he will even be able to see his face more often, now.

This is definitively good news.

*

When Finn comes into Poe’s quarters, the last thing he is expecting is seeing a stormtrooper there.

“What… who…?” he begins worriedly, his hand automatically going for the blaster attached to his hip. All kind of theories go through his mind in one second, from the innocent idea of Poe needing somebody’s help to the terrifying possibility of an assassination attempt perpetrated by an enemy of General Skywalker. Before he can truly react, though, the stormtrooper takes his helmet off to reveal Poe’s head.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I didn’t meant to scare you,” he says contritely, leaving the helmet in the table. Finn blinks at him.

“Why are you wearing an stromtroopers’ armor?” he asks, intrigued.

“Ah.” Poe’s face moves to form a variety of smile that Finn specially loves. To be honest, at this point he adores all of his smiles, but this is one of his favorites. It means Poe’s up to something, which tends to be good for Finn. “I had an idea, you see, to congratulate you for your promotion.”

“Yes?” That sounds exciting. Maybe he is going to take him somewhere in the ship, incognito. That would explain the armor.

“Yeah.” Poe closes the distance between them to give him a thorough kiss, and Finn stops thinking about the armor. He stops thinking altogether, actually, too concentrated in Poe’s tongue, his teeth, his hands on his back, his body against his. Then, when he was starting to return the kiss, the other man drops to his knees, smiling up at him.

“Poe?”

“As I said, I wanted to congratulate you for your promotion,” Poe says, placing a hand in Finn’s hip and pinning him with it. The other hand caresses briefly his knee to drive upwards, brushing along his thigh. Finn has a shiver when it reaches the lower extreme of the uniform’s jacket and opens it, creating an opening over his crotch to which Poe quickly presses his face. Finn swallows. “I just thought,” continues Poe, brushing lazily his cheek against Finn’s quickly hardening dick, “that you might like to, you know. Be in charge tonight.”

To be in charge. That’s what the armor was for, then.

Poe has always liked having his hair pulled; when Finn fists his fingers around it he nearly purrs, leaning into the touch. Finn uses his hold to bend his head backwards and Poe goes with it, looking at him with lust.

“You want me to give you orders?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Please, sergeant,” says Poe, breathing nearly over his dick, and Finn sends rational thought through the window and steps forward, pushing his crotch against the other man’s face. Poe moans and starts rubbing his face against it, then licks at the fabric, over the zipper’s seam. Finn shudders and takes a step back.

“First of everything,” he says, in his most commanding tone, “take off that armor and get naked. Right now.”

Poe jumps to his feet and starts obeying.

“I’m sure is going to be a pleasure serving _under_ you, sergeant,” he says with a smile.


End file.
